My Brother's Guardian
by wulfpatronus
Summary: When Mycroft's father could careless about taking care of Sherlock and his mother is too busy with work, Mycroft takes on the role. He becomes a second parent to Sherlock but also is a brother. He basically raises him and saves him from bullies, mean teachers and more. A bit mature at times but often there will be lots of fluff
1. Sherlock's Birth

My Brother's Guardian

(A/N: I saw tons of child!Sherlock and teen!Mycroft so I wanted to try it. This is basically drabbles of Mycroft looking after Sherlock since their father has no interest/abuses him and their mother is busy with work. I know in the show, his parents are good and caring people, but go with it. I love the idea of Mycroft taking Sherlock under his wing and being very protective of his baby brother. Eurus will appear but is only minor and disappears after she's four years old. If you don't like the book, please don't read it.)

Hello, Brother of Mine

Seven-year-old Mycroft eagerly sat in the hospital chair, waiting for his younger brother or sister to be born. Unlike most kids, he wasn't jealous of his mother having a baby. He knew what was going to happen. He knew that he would still be as much loved as he had been before the baby. It just meant that he would share his parents since the baby was helpless. Until the baby was about a year old or so, he would need constant attention. He enjoyed the thought of possibly getting a brother to mentor and have be just like him.

While his mother was excited to have another baby in the house, his father could care less. In fact, he wasn't even here to support his mother or see his new sibling be born. The fact that his father could care less made Mycroft's blood boil. How could his father be so heartless? While Mycroft often seemed cold and distant, he had feelings of protection towards his new sibling.

Nine months, earlier, his mother had announced her pregnancy at the dinner table. Six-year-old Mycroft had been eating at the table, talking eagerly with his father. It had been a normal day in the Holmes household. Gregory had been away all day at work and had come home just in time for Mycroft to get home from school. Lydia had been at work as well, but had come home a bit earlier than usual.

" _So, Gregory, Mike, I have some news," Lydia smiled at them and Mycroft had deduced that she was either pregnant or his mother had gotten a new job. He figured the first seemed more likely._

" _What is it, my darling?" Gregory asked, winking at Mycroft and returning to eat the lasagna on his plate._

 _Mycroft kept quiet and ate his plate, eager to get back to his studies._

" _Well, I took a pregnancy test today, and it was positive. I'm pregnant. We're having another baby!" Lydia smiled eagerly._

 _Mycroft grinned up at his mother. "Am I really getting a baby brother or sister?"_

 _Lydia nodded with a smile. "You sure are, buddy."_

 _Gregory's smile turned into a grimace. "Do we really have room or necessity for another baby, Lydia? Besides, we have Mycroft. That's all we need."_

 _While part of Mycroft was happy, the other part was angry. Though he hadn't known his baby sibling for long, he was protective of it. Plus, his father seemed a bit too angry about the situation._

" _Darling, we can't just get rid of it. It's joining our family plus Mycroft could use a playmate."_

Throughout the pregnancy, Mycroft had noticed that his father acted a bit odd. He didn't talk lovingly to it like he would to him. He wouldn't even go with his mother to the doctor's appointments. He just acted like it was a nuisance or a brat. He treated it worse than he treated strangers.

"Master Mycroft, your mother is ready for you to meet your baby brother," The nanny, Dorothy, smiled at him.

Since his parents were busy, they had a nanny on hand. Their parents had a maid, a nanny, a butler, a chef, a gardener and tons of hired help. The nanny, Dorothy, was a very kind but stern woman. She never took nonsense from Mycroft but she would be very gentle about it.

"A brother," Mycroft stood up out of his seat and took Dorothy's hand. Though he felt silly doing at seven, he didn't want to make a scene.

Dorothy smiled at him. "Yes, his name is Sherlock. William Sherlock Scott Holmes, but he's going to go by Sherlock."

Mycroft grinned at the thought of a brother. He had someone to mentor and teach everything that he knew. Evidently, it seemed that his father had no interest in seeing his new son, so Mycroft would be like a second father. Mycroft had no idea what that would mean later on. He just knew that it meant he would have a significant role in raising Sherlock.

"It's a pity that Father doesn't even want to meet him," Mycroft frowned but put the thought out of his head. He needed to be strong. If not for himself, then for Sherlock.

With a smile, Dorothy looked at the boy. "I'm sure that he'll grow fond of the idea of having another son around."

Mycroft shrugged. "It's not likely."

Dorothy frowned at the boy but decided not to push the matters further. Walking to the room, she let go of his hand and opened the door. It seemed like an eternity to Mycroft who had been patiently waiting for nine months to see his new sibling. He was incredibly excited to get to hold him.

When he had walked in the room, Mycroft had immediately noticed that it had not been as cleaned as the other rooms. This was a room that was frequently used or was carelessly cleaned by the housekeepers. It wasn't ideal conditions for mother or for baby. It angered Mycroft but he let it go.

"Hello, darling," Lydia smiled and patted for him to come sit by her. In her arms, a small blue bundle was wide awake.

From Mycroft's deductions, his mother wasn't in any pain. Well, if it was, it wasn't excruciating. He knew that there would be some soreness after delivery, but right now, she would be fine. It also seemed that the baby would be fine. It looked small, but it didn't seem to be lacking nutrients. To Mycroft, everything seemed alright aside from his father not being here.

For a baby, that was odd that he wasn't sleeping. Eagerly, Mycroft crawled onto the bed. At long last, he would get to see Sherlock. Peering into the blanket, he bent the blanket back so that he could get a proper look. Sherlock didn't seem to mind his brother doing that. He was incredibly cute. Well, as cute as babies can be, but Mycroft was never one for emotions.

Sherlock had a headful of thin curly black hair that made him adorable. His eyes were a stunning blue, just like Mycroft's were. So, the boys looked quite a bit alike which pleased him. Normally, babies didn't affect him much. Babies were babies and they just were a result of sexual intercourse. This was different. His brother was totally different.

"Say hello to your new baby brother, Sherlock," Lydia rocked sleeping Sherlock and Mycroft noticed that he was starting to shift in his sleep.

A restless sleeper, just like he was.

"Mum, can I hold him?" Mycroft looked at his brother who had opened his eyes again towards him.

Mycroft had sworn he had seen Sherlock give a smile towards him.

With a smile, Mycroft carefully held his baby brother. Though his brother felt small in weight, he was tall. He estimated that Sherlock was about 21 inches long and five pounds. The baby boy was dressed in a blue onesie with sleeves that covered his hands to prevent scratching himself. Though the baby didn't seem too interested with his face. He seemed to be studying (yes, _studying_ ) Mycroft's face.

"Sherlock, I'm your older brother. As they no doubt have told you, I'm Mycroft. I really am sorry that our father isn't here, but he doesn't seem to care about you. It doesn't matter, though. I'm here, Sherlock. Your big brother will always look after you and won't let him hurt you."

Mycroft adjusted his hold so that he could get a better view of his brother's face. It amazed him how a baby could make him act this emotional. Emotions were never his strong suit, but Sherlock made him act different. Later on, the brothers would act just like each other.

Sherlock seemed to understand what he was saying and regarded him with a smile. Though, Mycroft passed it off as a gassy smile.

"He seems to love his big brother," Lydia smiled. "I do think your father cares, though."

"Mother, I hate to fight in front of Sherlock, but he doesn't."

With a frown, Lydia looked at her sons. The elder one was holding the younger and singing a lullaby to him. It warmed her heart that at least Mycroft was getting along with Mycroft. If Gregory wasn't going to care, then she was glad that her sons would have a close bond.

"How long do I get to stay here?" Mycroft asked. "Can I do my studies here so that I can stay and help you with Sherlock?"

Today, Mycroft's homework was quite light. All he had was Math homework and history homework. They were simple sheets that he could finish in about two minutes since the teachers at his school were incredibly dimwitted. His brother was more important than school was, right now.

With a considering look, Lydia nodded. "If you don't have too much homework, you can stay and help me. I'm sure Sherlock would enjoy having his older brother here to play with him."

With a happy look, Mycroft handed Sherlock back to his mother and took out his backpack which eventually would become his brother's. The math sheet was quite below his level. They were learning how to use money but he had learned how to do that at age three. Right now, he was able to do multiplication and division with fractions and do long division in a minute.

"That seems like easy work, darling," Lydia smiled and fed Sherlock who seemed uninterested with eating. Little did Mycroft know that would be an indicator for the future.

With a shake of his head, Mycroft carefully put the paper back in his backpack. "It is very easy. Even Sherlock could probably do it."

Lydia laughed and draped Sherlock over her shoulder, patting his back so that he could burp. "I don't think Sherlock can quite do math yet, but with your tutoring, I think he could pretty quick."

Mycroft grinned down at his sheet and studied the questions in his textbook. The sheet was on World War II, on D-Day. Like his math sheet, it was incredibly easy, but it was a lot more interesting. He enjoyed learning about history, especially Britain history and politics.

"My bright little boys," Lydia was rocking Sherlock so that he would go back to sleep and it seemed to be working. The baby's eyes were starting to close.

With big eyes, Mycroft reached and touched the blanket, trying to rub it soothingly to calm his brother who was now fussing. It seemed that he was the kind of baby who was hard to calm, but Mycroft didn't care. Though it would get annoying, he wasn't about to abandon Sherlock.

"Can I try rocking him?" Mycroft extended his arms to the crying baby.

With a nod, Lydia gently put the baby in his arms. Sherlock's cries started ceasing as Mycroft sung a lullaby to him. It was one that would continue to soothe Sherlock even in adulthood. It seemed that the brothers already had a bond that couldn't be broken.

"I think you have a magic touch, darling," Lydia looked down at the baby who was sleeping in his arms.

With a chuckle, Mycroft looked down at his brother. "I'll never let him get hurt. I'll always be his guardian. Even when he doesn't want it, I'll give it."

The baby slept happily in his arms and Mycroft kissed his head. There was nothing that Mycroft wouldn't do for his baby brother. He would go to the ends of the earth for his brother.


	2. Welcome Home, Sherlock

My Brother's Guardian

Chapter 2-Coming Home Now

(A/N: My Mycroft may seem a little different than the show's Mycroft, but that's because he's a child at this point. I hope you don't mind. If you do, please don't read it since I spent a lot of time on this story.)

Seven-year-old Mycroft peered out the window, eagerly awaiting his mother and his baby brother's homecoming. Today had been a long day for the young boy who just wanted to see his little brother and mother. For starters, the schoolwork was much too easy. They were learning about using money which Mycroft had learned how to do that about three years ago. Right now, Mycroft was able to do multiplication with four digit numbers as knowing almost everything in history. Anyhow, the rest of the day had gone on uneventful. The few friends that Mycroft had were gone today. So, Mycroft had been by himself during lunch. It was alright because Mycroft was looking forward to what would happen after school. His brother and mother would come home. He couldn't wait for his brother to come home permanently.

The servants had made sure to prepare the house for Master Lydia and Master Sherlock's arrival, upon Gregory's request. Today, Gregory had been at work, but last night, he requested that the house be nice and tidy. It wasn't to celebrate the arrival of Sherlock, but to celebrate Lydia coming home. He still saw Sherlock as vermin that should be exterminated. The maid, Edith, had made sure the house was clean, especially the living room. The chef, Arnold, was preparing Lydia's favorite meal, steak with mashed potatoes. The gardener had cut off the weeds and planted some of Lydia's favorite flowers. Finally, the nanny, Dorothy, had gotten Mycroft nice and clean, ready to greet his mother.

Unlike Gregory, who wanted nothing to do with Sherlock, the servants were excited. Most of them were old enough that they had children or grandchildren of their own. They understood that a new baby brought all sorts of joy and love to the house and they would have someone new to serve. Dorothy was excited that she would have another baby to take care of. She knew that Mycroft had assigned himself the responsibility of being Sherlock's caretaker.

The nursery had been prepared. It was painted baby blue with a darker blue triangle border at the top of the walls. The curtains were a sky blue and were lace, to make the room look nice. A black metal crib sat by the window, with blue bedding inside of it. A gray changing table stood against the wall and a dresser that was white sat against another wall. There were toys on the floor as well. The room had been decorated by Lydia with help from Mycroft.

"Mycroft, what are you doing, buddy?" Gregory asked, walking into the den with a newspaper folded under his arm.

A smile spread on Mycroft's face. "I'm waiting for Mum to come home with Sherlock!"

The smile vanished on Gregory's face. "Mycroft, I thought I told you. Sherlock is nothing more than a nuisance who your mother decided to keep. I would've put him up for adoption, but your mother insisted, so we're keeping him. I want nothing to do with him. If you do, that's your business."

With that, Gregory left the room and a frown replaced the smile on Mycroft's face. It made him sad that Sherlock's own father could be that harsh. Normally, he wasn't this emotional child. He often repressed his emotions as Sherlock would do later too, but it was hard. It seemed that he _hated_ his youngest son. When he would grow older and he and Sherlock had children, they were different. They cherished their children greatly.

A car pulled into the driveway and Mycroft looked up, hearing the sound. He ran to open the door and Dorothy stood in the room. She was ready to help out with the baby and to keep Mycroft out of the way. Sometimes, Mycroft didn't really care for their nanny, but he was nice to her for his mother's sake.

"Mum! Hi," Mycroft looked up at his mother curiously.

A tired Lydia walked in, carrying a bundle of blue blankets in her arms. It had been a long day at the hospital, having to sign papers and Sherlock wasn't cooperating. He had needed a last-minute check-up, but the baby would have none of it. He had to be held down by Lydia while the doctor examined him. It still wasn't easy with Sherlock wailing at the top of his lungs.

In her arms, a wide-awake Sherlock was happily sitting in her arms. He was looking around the room and he seemed to be observing it. From what Mycroft had deduced, Sherlock was already farther ahead than most other babies. He knew strangers from family members. The baby seemed to be studying the room and trying to learn things from just looking at it. Most infants slept through the days, but Sherlock seemed to be different.

"Hello, sweetheart," Lydia smiled and bent down to hug Mycroft while keeping a hold of Sherlock so that she didn't drop him.

Mycroft hugged his mother and looked at Sherlock sitting in his mother's arms. He seemed to be in deep thought, which was strange for a baby. The baby seemed to be studying something again. He wondered if Sherlock would turn out to be a genius just like he was. If he did, that would make things easier on Mycroft. If he wasn't, it was a hurdle for Mycroft to go over.

"Hello, Mistress Lydia. How was the trip?" Dorothy reached to grab Sherlock but he started wailing.

 _Sherlock already doesn't like Dorothy. Smart baby,_ Mycroft thought with a smirk. Again, Dorothy attempted to take Sherlock and this time was successful. Carefully, she held him in her arms and was attempting to soothe him by rocking him. It was met with louder wails. While Dorothy was upset, Mycroft was secretly happy that Sherlock had the brains to know that Dorothy was a bit of a nuisance.

"Shh, buddy, why won't you calm down?" Dorothy kept trying to rock Sherlock in his arms but the baby was having none of it.

"Can I try, Mum? After all, I did get him to calm down at the hospital," Mycroft reached out to hold Sherlock.

Still trying to rock him, Dorothy was trying to rock him but he had locked eyes with Mycroft. Sherlock open and closed his hands towards Mycroft, trying to tell him that he wanted to him to hold him. Against Sherlock's wishes, Dorothy tried to cuddle him close to her chest, but he wailed louder. It made Mycroft worry that his father was going to come in and stop it.

"For goodness' sake, Dorothy. Let Mycroft hold him," Lydia snapped, her patience towards Dorothy finally snapping.

Taking the baby from Dorothy, Lydia gently took him and placed him snugly into Mycroft's arms. Sitting on the couch, Mycroft laid back and started rocking Sherlock, singing a lullaby softly into Sherlock's face. He planted a kiss on his brother's forehead, cuddling him.

"It's not going to work, honey," Dorothy gently smiled at him.

Mycroft looked at Sherlock who's cries were getting softer and quieter. "You don't have to worry about a thing, Sherlock. I'm here for you and I will never let you fall down."

He continued his lullaby and Sherlock was quiet again, staring into his big brother's eyes. With a smile, Mycroft continued to hold him and found one of his books. He grabbed the book and held it while holding Sherlock. He started reading from it and it made Lydia smile.

"You're a very good boy, aren't you?" Mycroft softly spoke. "Don't worry, Sherlock. I'm not going to speak down to you like the nanny will. I'll treat you like an adult except when someone hurts you."

Dorothy frowned but Lydia sat down on the couch, putting the boy with the baby in her lap. She put Mycroft on one knee while holding Sherlock with the other arm. Sherlock seemed to enjoy being in his mother's arms. He looked around in contentment and seemed to "point" to the chandelier hanging from the ceiling.

"That's the ceiling," Mycroft looked at him eagerly. "And that's the chandelier!"

With a chuckle, Lydia looked down at Mycroft. "You enjoy having a baby brother, don't you, Mycroft? You love your big brother, don't you Sherlock?"

Sherlock looked up at his brother curiously. The big blue eyes matched his brother's and his father's. When his father would see, Mycroft knew it still would not soften him. While his father seemed to love his eldest son, he didn't care for his youngest one. Where was his father anyhow? Mycroft knew that he couldn't stay in his office forever.

"Shall I go get Master Gregory, Mistress Lydia?" Dorothy asked.

With a nod, Lydia looked up at the nanny. "Yes, please, Dorothy. He still hasn't met Sherlock just yet."

With a frown, Mycroft looked at his brother. He knew what was going to happen. He knew that Sherlock was never going to be treated decently by their father. What exactly was wrong with him? It was a question that Sherlock would later ask him after being beaten. It was a question that Mycroft didn't have the answer to. He told him that nothing was wrong with him. They just were two boys who were brighter than everyone and were misunderstood.

"Don't worry about meeting our father, Sherlock. Regrettably, he doesn't like you and I don't know why, but his opinion doesn't matter. Mummy and I love you and that's what matters."

Sherlock seemed to understand him and gazed at him, with his bright blue eyes. The baby seemed to enjoy looking at things from what Mycroft deduced. He saw Sherlock becoming a scientist, maybe. Or a philosopher. It was quite stupid to ask what they'd be at that young of an age though.

"Everything will go fine, darling. Even if your father doesn't love your brother, I do and you do. It may be up to you to raise Sherlock at times. I'll be busy at work, so he'll be spending a lot of time with you."

Mycroft's eyes grew wide since he had been thinking the same thing. What about the nanny, though? He knew that Dorothy had the attitude that children should be seen and not heard. Plus, Dorothy wanted to be the main one in charge of taking care of them. So, she possibly wouldn't let him help with Sherlock's needs. Even when he would probably cry for Mycroft.

"Mummy, what about Dorothy? She probably isn't going to let me take care of the baby." Mycroft put a hand under Sherlock's back to support him. The baby was happy to be near his mother and his big brother.

With a chuckle, she looked at Mycroft while rocking a now sleeping Sherlock. "At school, she'll take care of Sherlock until we find a new nanny. After school, we'll let you be in charge of taking care of him. You're still a bit young, so I'll help you take care of things that you need. Is that too much responsibility on you?"

Mycroft shook his head. "No, Mummy. I really want to be there for my brother. I want to help him and take care of him since you and Daddy will be busy."

"That's what I like to hear. Good boy!" She kissed Sherlock's head. "I think I hear your dad coming. Are you ready for him to meet your brother?"

With a nod, Mycroft sat up on the couch as his father walked in the room to meet his new son that he didn't want. Sherlock curled up in his mother's arms and nestled her face into his mother, trying to stay asleep. Chuckling, Lydia kissed his head and looked down at him. She put her arm around Mycroft and hugged him against her side, feeling protective.

"Where's the brat?" Gregory walked towards Lydia and smiled at her. He looked down at Mycroft and smiled but Mycroft put a protective hand on Sherlock. If his father wasn't going to be nice to Sherlock, then he didn't deserve Mycroft either."

"Gregory, he's not a brat. He's your son," Lydia put him in Gregory's arms.

With a look of disgust, Gregory looked down at his son, with a sneer towards him. It made Mycroft angry but also he felt a pang of pain. It wasn't fair to Sherlock. It wasn't fair! Looking at his mother, Mycroft put his head into her and knew better than to try and grab Sherlock out of his arms.

"So, you're the brat who had to ruin our lives," Gregory sneered down at him and Mycroft started to get up.

Sherlock looked at Gregory with a friendly smile, knowing that this was his father. It didn't click for him that his father didn't like him. The friendly smile wasn't returned, like Mycroft had expected. While Mycroft knew that this would happen, it didn't stop it from angering him.

"Lydia, he's ugly. The only thing he got from me is my eyes and my hair. He's a hideous baby," Gregory sneered, holding Sherlock away from him.

A look of anger replaced the look of worry on Lydia's face. It was something that Mycroft wasn't used to. Usually, his mother was cheery and happy, always happy around her husband and son (now sons).

"How can you be so heartless and call your own son hideous? Sherlock has done nothing to you. I don't understand why you insist on calling him a monster."

"Being born is enough, Lydia. We didn't need another child. We were fine with Mycroft. But no. You had to go and get pregnant."

At this point, Lydia was trying not to get angry.

"Mycroft, can you take your brother to your bedroom? Sing to him, play with him, do something. I don't want either of you to hear the argument," Lydia took Sherlock who was now crying and put him into Mycroft's arms.

With a nod, Mycroft bundled Sherlock up into some blankets, holding him close and gently. He made shushing noises and walked to his bedroom, humming a song that Sherlock enjoyed.

"How dare you say that, Gregory?" Mycroft heard his mother yell. That was something she never did. Except for later when she would scold the boys for doing something they shouldn't.

"It's true! We don't have time for another baby!" Gregory yelled. "I don't want the brat. The only one I want is Mycroft."

"Believe it or not, Mycroft actually cares about Sherlock, unlike you."

At this point, Mycroft had reached the bedroom and shut the door so that neither he nor Sherlock would be able to hear the argument. Walking over to the rocking chair, he sat down and held the tiny bundle in his arms. Sherlock knew who was holding him and he started to calm down, reaching to grab Mycroft's finger. It was for comfort, Mycroft had deduced. Whatever the reason, Mycroft happily allowed him to grab onto his finger.

"That was frightening, wasn't it, Sherlock?" Mycroft asked, softly rocking him and a surge of protectiveness went through him.

The baby gave him a look that clearly meant yes. Sherlock looked up at him with his big blue eyes.

"Shh, it'll be alright. Daddy may not love you, but Mummy and I do. You won't hear me say it often, but I do. I often may not show it, but I do. Nothing can or will ever change that."

Again, the baby was looking at him with big eyes that showed he was listening. The baby was going to be a really good listener.

"How about I read you a book? I can read you to sleep," Mycroft found a book that was an assortment of stories.

He started reading the book to the baby who was starting to fall asleep in his arms. An idea clicked into Mycroft's head and he closed the book. He could simply create a personal story that was meant just for Sherlock. Later on, he and Sherlock would do that for their own kids.

"Once upon a time, there was a king and a queen who loved their eldest son very much. Then the queen became pregnant and gave birth to a second son. The queen and the prince loved the second prince with all their hearts. The king was a mean man who didn't care for change. The queen decided to ignore it. She and the prince raised the youngest prince together. The baby prince grew up and became king. He was loved by his mummy and his big brother. They lived happily ever after. The end." He kissed Sherlock's head. He would tell more of the story when Sherlock was a bit older.

By now, Sherlock was fast asleep and snuggled into Mycroft's arms. While Mycroft knew that the baby should sleep in his own bed, he had another idea. He'd hold Sherlock at least until their parents were done arguing. So, Mycroft continued to rock in the rocking chair and hummed a lullaby, protectively holding Sherlock.

Gregory had stormed off to his study while Lydia had gone to check on their sons. She knew their arguments probably wouldn't affect Mycroft, but Sherlock was still a baby. So, she planned to keep the arguing to a minimum and to do them out of his earshot.

As she walked to his room, she didn't hear any crying. She thought she actually heard snoring. Opening the door, she slowly opened it and the sight was too cute to put into words. Laid in the rocking chair asleep was Mycroft with Sherlock against his chest, clutching on tight and had his face buried into him. It made Lydia happy to see that her boys got along so well.

She grabbed a blanket and put it on Mycroft, below Sherlock. She knew the danger of putting a blanket on a baby if you didn't swaddle it. When she did, it didn't seem to disturb either of the boys. Mycroft had slightly tightened his hold on the baby who seemed to enjoy it.

"I'm so happy that you two are getting along so well," Lydia kissed their heads and looked down at them.

As she turned, she heard Mycroft say in his sleep, "I'm your guardian, Sherlock."


	3. The Hovering Nanny and Abusing Daddy

My Brother's Guardian

Chapter 3-The Hovering Nanny and Abusing Daddy

(A/N: How are you liking the first two parts? I plan to jump three months in each part, until he's about three then it'll be one month. So, it'll be a lengthy book! Most parts will involve just Gregory, Lydia, Mycroft and Sherlock but a few minor characters like Dorothy will appear here and there. I also decided not to add Eurus to the story. So, it'll just be Mycroft and Sherlock, just like in the story. Please suggest ideas as well! Thank you! P.S., for those who don't know: A/N means author's note).

Seven-year-old Mycroft was at school, like all boys and girls his age were. Since Mycroft was at school, baby Sherlock was left with the nanny, Dorothy. Three months had passed since the baby's birth and quite a bit had changed. Gregory had taken to staying in his study after coming home from work. He would eat supper and then return to the study, only coming out to go to the bathroom. When Sherlock would be put to bed, Gregory would come out and spend time with his family. Lydia took nine weeks off work to spend time with Sherlock and to get the rest of the family used to him.

The first few weeks of Sherlock's life were great, especially since Lydia was home to take care of the baby. With Lydia being home, Dorothy backed off and allowed her to do the mothering of Sherlock. During the day, Lydia would take care of him and he seemed glued to her hip. The servants would keep going about their daily business and left Lydia to spend time with Sherlock. Around three, Mycroft would come home from school. He'd do his homework and then assist his mother when she needed it with taking care of Sherlock. Gregory came home around five and he would try to be decent, but refused to do anything with Sherlock.

Nine weeks (about two months) quickly passed and Lydia was due back to go to work. It was hard for her, being a new mother again, to let go of being home caring for Sherlock. A job was a job; she had told herself. Life again changed when Lydia went back to work. Dorothy resumed taking care of Sherlock while Mycroft was at school and the servants did their jobs, but enjoyed Sherlock's presence. Dorothy had a hard time getting Sherlock to calm down. Any time she tried to hold him, he would start to wail. So, she left him in his bedroom aside from feeding him and changing his diapers. Mycroft came home around three as usual and took care of Sherlock, with Lydia's permission and instruction. Often, Dorothy tried not letting him take care of Sherlock, but Mycroft knew better. Lydia came home around five and Gregory around six. After supper, Lydia would spend time with the boys and Gregory went to his studies. Life had changed for the Holmes family, but everyone (except Gregory) thought of it as a good change.

The bond between Mycroft and Sherlock had not changed since Mycroft first met him in the hospital. It only got stronger to Lydia's pleasure. When he'd come home from school, he'd greet Sherlock who would be crying in his crib. Of course, when Sherlock would see that it was only Mycroft, he would quiet down. He'd make a noise of happiness and indicate that he'd want out. He'd hold Sherlock and do his homework at the same time. The brothers cared for each other.

"Shh, it's alright," Dorothy tried calming Sherlock down after feeding him. He was draped over her shoulder, in the process of being burped.

At only three months, Sherlock knew who was a familiar face. He knew who he liked and who he didn't. Dorothy was one of the ones he didn't like. The baby was quite fussy when it came to who held him. Mycroft and Lydia were the ones who could hold him without trouble.

"Why won't you just burp already?" Dorothy frowned. "Your big brother was never like this. Why can't you be like Mycroft?"

The baby finally let out a soft burp, wanting to be out of her arms as soon as possible. He could feel that she didn't like him and that she didn't know how to properly take care of babies. He wanted either his mother or Mycroft to take him out of her arms.

"Can't you quiet the brat down?" Gregory walked in angrily.

That day, Gregory had been off work since it was a holiday. It wasn't one where schools would get off, but his work did. To him, a day off meant not having to deal with anything but being in his study. Mycroft would get home two hours early due to conferences, but Lydia got home at regular time.

Looking down at the brat, Gregory frowned and a look of disgust appeared on his face. He hated who he referred to as "the monster" for ruining their lives. If he had his way, Sherlock would've been given up for adoption and they'd be rid of him. Lydia however put her foot down and had demanded they keep him. He wanted to keep her happy so he agreed to it.

"I'm sorry, sir," Dorothy was rocking Sherlock.

The baby was still crying (a bit louder this time) and he squirmed in Dorothy's arms. He noticed his father there and reached his arms towards him. With a coo, he started to cry for Gregory. He didn't seem to understand that his father didn't love him. He just knew that he was his father.

"Just put him in his crib. Let him cry himself to sleep," Gregory frowned and walked away, leaving Dorothy with crying Sherlock.

With a sigh, Dorothy looked at the baby that was wailing loudly in her arms. When around Master Mycroft or Mistress Lydia, he never cried. He'd happily stay in their arms and would seek their attention. He seemed to really hate her. It wasn't fair! Why couldn't Sherlock like her like he liked Mistress Lydia or Master Mycroft?

"You're a very naughty boy," Dorothy carried him to his room.

Sherlock started wailing again and was thrashing in her arms. Of course, he wasn't strong enough to escape her grip yet, so he was merely annoying. Thankfully, it was naptime and she could let him cry in his crib. That was something Lydia and Mycroft never did. Even at seven years old, Master Mycroft was fiercely protective of his baby brother.

"Come on, please stop crying. For me?" Dorothy looked into his eyes

Sherlock started coughing from doing all that crying and remained neutral. That baby was smart just like Mycroft had been. It angered her that at only three months, he knew who he did and didn't like. She wasn't one of the favored people. It was reserved for Lydia and Mycroft.

"Since you're being a bad boy, you get to stay in your crib. It's naptime anyhow."

The baby stopped crying when he was put down and he stared at the toy bumblebee that was in his crib. Lydia had insisted on getting the toy so Sherlock could have a comfort item. Gregory had no interest and Mycroft agreed with their mother.

"You're being a brat," Dorothy frowned.

Sherlock didn't seem to answer her. He turned away from her and laid quietly in his crib. That was another thing Dorothy was upset about. Sherlock hardly slept a wink, which wasn't like most babies his age. He would look around the room or would find something to engage his mind.

With a frown, Dorothy shook her head and walked out of the room, shutting the light off in his room.

"I hear the monster stopped crying," Gregory grinned at her. "What'd you do?"

Dorothy laughed. "I just put him in his crib. He stopped crying when I put him down and left him alone. He's a weird child."

"He's nothing more than a monster, Dorothy," Gregory headed to Sherlock's room.

Baby Sherlock had fallen asleep in his crib, happy to be left alone. Though he did enjoy his brother and mother's company. There were people that Sherlock liked and then there were the rest of the people.

Gregory walked in and opened the door, not caring whether or not he was quiet. The monster would fall asleep again. He just wanted to let the boy know who was the boss. The door opened and it was quiet, it's occupant sleeping heavily. Sherlock was blissfully sleeping in his crib.

How could Lydia love this little mangy brat? He wasn't even remotely handsome. Not like Mycroft, however. Mycroft was a good little boy while Sherlock was just a crying brat. He frowned in disgust and yanked the baby out of his crib. It was enough to wake Sherlock up and he stared up at his father.

Making sure to hold Sherlock by the neck, Gregory tightly held Sherlock and carried him down the stairs. That brat was going to get what he deserved. He knew Mycroft would be coming home soon, but Mycroft couldn't stop him. He had the brains to know not to, he thought.

"Would you shut up, already?" Gregory snapped at Sherlock who was wailing.

With a wail, Sherlock was crying from pain and not understanding what was going on.

"Is that all you do is cry?" Gregory rolled his eyes. "You're such a stupid boy."

Still crying, Sherlock was wailing and wanted his mother or older brother. When he reached the den, Gregory dropped Sherlock on the ground. He didn't want to hold the brat any longer. The brat deserved what he had coming. So, he kicked at him but was careful not to leave a mark on him.

"Shut up, you," Gregory was sick of him crying.

Sherlock was now wailing hysterically and trying to find a way to get away from him. He was just starting to crawl, so he wasn't able to get away fast enough. The baby didn't stand a fair chance.

Meanwhile, Mycroft was walking down the driveway and he heard a baby crying. He knew who it was. Sherlock. Was their father abusing him? This was something their mother didn't know. Their father had agreed to try and be kinder to Sherlock but still wanted nothing to do with him. So, their parents wanted to stay together for the sake of the boys.

Anger started to surge through Mycroft, but he started to think logically. Maybe it was just that Sherlock was being fussy again? For a baby, Sherlock was pretty fussy, especially around Dorothy. Mycroft figured that Dorothy was feeding or doing something with Sherlock. So, his anger started to diminish. However, part of him knew that Sherlock wouldn't be crying that loudly or that high pitched. The cry meant he was in pain.

Walking in, Mycroft opened the door and the crying was as loud as a bullhorn. He closed the door and walked upstairs, running to find where Sherlock was. He didn't often show that he cared, but he would always run to the rescue. Even if it seemed like he didn't care, he did.

The run turned into a walk. It clicked for Mycroft that he needed to sneak to where Sherlock was and catch them in the act. So, he started walking on his tiptoes and made sure to keep as quiet as possible. If he was caught, he knew that their father would scramble and find a way to pin this all on Sherlock being fussy.

"Would you stop that crying, you monster?" Mycroft heard his father start to head to the door. "Dorothy, you can put him back to bed now. I'm done with him until tomorrow afternoon."

Breathing heavily, Mycroft put himself against the wall and stayed as quiet as possible. Things just got a whole lot harder. With Dorothy, she wouldn't let him hold Sherlock out of jealousy. Thankfully, she wasn't very quick on her feet, so Mycroft could find a way to trick her to give him back. He needed to get his mother to get here as soon as possible.

"Shh it's okay," Dorothy's "sweet" voice tried to comfort him.

Like Mycroft expected, Sherlock was having none of this. He wanted their mother or him, which flattered him.

"Please stop crying," Dorothy again tried to comfort him as Mycroft slid towards the door to rescue Sherlock.

Again, Sherlock continued to cry so Mycroft heard Dorothy's footsteps heading towards the door. From his deductions, he knew that Sherlock was being taken to his bedroom to be left there. A plan started to click in Mycroft's head and he rushed out the door.

 _Hang on, Sherlock, I'm coming,_ Mycroft thought to himself and ran up the stairs, chasing after Dorothy. He knew that once Sherlock was in his arms, he'd calm down and Mycroft would be able to call their mother. The rule was that he couldn't call Lydia unless it was an emergency and this was one.

Mycroft knew that Gregory wouldn't chase after Sherlock. He wanted nothing to do with the boy. So, it would just be Dorothy that he'd have to worry about. She hated having to allow Mycroft to be the main one to help take care of Sherlock. It angered her, but Lydia had insisted on it.

"Shh, it's okay," Dorothy attempted to rock him again.

Was she trying to stall having to put Sherlock in his crib? Whatever the reason, he didn't like it one bit.

By accident, Mycroft stepped on something that was left outside the door. Bending down, he picked it up and saw that it was Sherlock's toy bumblebee. He carefully held it and walked in, seeing a crying Sherlock and an angry Dorothy.

Dorothy smiled at Mycroft. "Hey, buddy, how was school?"

Mycroft gave a polite nod. "It was alright. Now, I believe you have someone that I need."

The sound of Mycroft's voice made Sherlock's head turn. His face broke out into a thoughtful smile and he made a noise of happiness. He extended his arms out toward Mycroft, but Dorothy moved away from him.

Sherlock started to cry again. Mycroft was getting annoyed by the crying, but was more annoyed with the fact that Dorothy was the source of it.

"Don't you have homework to do?" Dorothy raised her eyebrow.

Mycroft shook his head. "Nope, the teachers said an early out day deserves a reward. Now give me my brother. I think you have to answer the phone which is probably my mother."

Rolling her eyes, Dorothy headed towards the phone, but kept a hold of Sherlock. The baby and Mycroft were both feeling angry and wanting their mother. He knew that he just had to have his voice heard and his mother would come home.

"Hello? Oh, hi Mistress Lydia!" Dorothy sweetly answered the phone and was trying to keep Sherlock quiet. "Yes, everything's fine. You want to talk to Mycroft? Well, he can't talk right now."

Mycroft glared at her. "Mum! Mum! I need to tell you something."

"Fine, Mistress Lydia. I don't see why—fine! I'll let him take care of the baby and talk to you."

With a satisfied grin, Mycroft held his arms out to hold Sherlock. Dorothy put him in his arms and Sherlock immediately calmed down. He gummed on Mycroft's shirt and laughed in delight at being with his brother.

"Hi, Mum," Mycroft smiled eagerly.

"Hello, sweetheart. How was your day at school today?" Lydia's voice was soothing to both the Holmes boys who were starting to calm down.

Mycroft laughed. "It was alright. Mum, you need to get home right away. Dad was being really mean to Sherlock. And he was screaming in pain."

Lydia frowned. "I'm on my way, honey. Take Sherlock to his room and start comforting and playing with him. You seem to have the magic touch."

"Dorothy doesn't have to help me? I get him all to myself as usual?"

"No, honey. I know how fussy he gets around her. I love you both. I'll be home as soon as I can."

With a nod, Mycroft hung up and headed back to Sherlock's bedroom. While walking, he rubbed Sherlock's back and kept him cradled against his shoulder. He slowly walked, soothing Sherlock and protectively heading to his bedroom. When their mother got home, he knew she would get as angry as he was, if not angrier. It made him want to be homeschooled but he always threw that thought aside. He was in need of an education.

"We're fine, Sherlock," Mycroft softly spoke and felt Sherlock put his head on his shoulder.

He walked into his bedroom and bent down, grabbing his bumblebee. Gently, Mycroft sat in the rocking chair and let him play with some toys. Unlike Dorothy, he knew that babies enjoyed attention. He knew that Sherlock was wanting to be independent and try things out.

"It'll all be alright," Mycroft looked at him. "Your big brother's here to make sure that you're not hurt."

With a grin, Mycroft sat back in the rocking chair and stroked Sherlock's head. He ran his hand through Sherlock's tiny curls and it seemed to soothe the baby. A smile spread on his face. He was here with Sherlock and Dorothy couldn't do a thing about it.

"Was Daddy mean today?" Mycroft gave a pitiful smile. "I heard you crying. I was trying to save you quicker. I'm sorry he did that."

Sherlock looked up at him with an eager smile and grabbed Mycroft's finger. He held on tightly and Mycroft smiled down at the boy. When he was older, he would find Sherlock annoying at times too, but he'd never hurt him. He'd be like the father Sherlock never had but deserved. He wanted to be everything that Sherlock needed and the protection that he couldn't shake off. Even when he didn't want him, he wanted to be Sherlock's protection.

A door closed and Mycroft deduced that it was the front door. Their mother, Lydia, was finally home.

Mycroft smiled. "Let's go, Sherlock. I think Mummy's home. You'll feel much better than if you were comforted by me."

Eagerly, he scooped up Sherlock and walked to the door to greet their mother. He wanted to give her a hug and tell her all about what their father had done. Plus, he knew that Sherlock would want some attention from his mother. He already had stranger danger at only three months.

"Mycroft?" Lydia's voice called from the stairs.

Running down the stairs, Mycroft ran but was careful not to drop Sherlock. The sight he saw made him happy. His mother had hung up her coat and had opened her arms out for a hug. It was as if she could make things better. At his age, he emotionally felt that his mother could fix anything.

"Darling!" Lydia pulled Mycroft away for a second. "Have you been crying, love? What's the matter?"

Mycroft's lip started to quiver and for the first time in a while, his eyes filled with tears. Opening his arms, Mycroft pulled into his mother for a hug and Lydia took Sherlock, holding him with one arm and hugging Mycroft with the other. He knew he was too big to be held, but he had to try this. It was the first time in a while that he cried.

"Mummy, I know I'm too big, but will you hold me?" Mycroft reached his arms out.

Lydia scooped up Mycroft with her free arm and held Sherlock with the other. Sherlock seemed unaware that Mycroft was starting to feel upset. Though he knew that something was going on.

"Let's go into Sherlock's room and we can talk about what's going on," Lydia planted a kiss on top of Mycroft's head.

Mycroft nodded and held onto his mother. Carrying her boys up the steps, she walked towards Sherlock's room quietly. The hold of his mother was one that he remembered to this day. His mother's hold was what Anthea and Molly's was with their children. He held Sherlock that way. He held Rosie that way.

Their mother was humming softly and it seemed to make Sherlock happy. He was smiling with glee and nestled in her arms so that he could hear her sing. Even at this age, Mycroft knew that Sherlock was going to be attached to their mother. He was happy that their mother was as caring as he was. He would never admit it, but he too was a mummy's boy. His oldest son was like that and so was Sherlock's son, Clay. His daughter, Lilly and Sherlock's daughter, Mary, were daddy's girls. Even Rosie was like that with John.

"You like Mummy's singing, don't you, my sweet boy?" She kissed Sherlock's head and saw the big grin on his face. "Well, I know what to do when I put you to bed."

They reached Sherlock's room and walked in, sitting on the rocking chair. Lydia carefully sat down with both boys in her arms. Sherlock was curled into his mother, his tiny hands latching onto her shirt to bury his face. Mycroft nestled his face into Lydia's other side, trying to fight the tears coming down.

"Now, can you tell me what the matter is? You almost never cry," Lydia softly spoke and kissed Mycroft's head, holding both boys.

"Mummy, Daddy is mean to Sherlock. I know he's trying but he made Sherlock cry in pain," Mycroft sniffled. Sherlock was falling asleep in his mother's arms.

Lydia frowned and kissed his head again. "I know, honey. I'm going to fire Dorothy and then I'll try to talk to your father. Thank you for protecting your baby brother. I'm sure he appreciates it too. Now, let's put Sherlock to bed and play a game."


End file.
